My Dawn
by 0MoonPrincess0
Summary: Isobelle is a powerful young witch whose life has just taken a turn for the worse. Everything was taken away from her, and now she must stand strong and fight for what makes her herself - her goodness. Remus is usually one to run away from intimacy and women in general, can he face his fears and be what she needs? A story of trial, courage, hope and, most all, love.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter or any of the other characters as they're all property of J.K Rowling, except of course the OC's I created. I would also like to point out that the storyline doesn't follow the same of the books or the movies, though there may come up a few similarities.

* * *

**A/N: **Hi, everyone! I know I've disappeared for too long again... I keep doing it, don't I? Well, I know lots of people seem excited with my new fic _Dream Girl_ and I just want to tell you that yes, I do intend to continue it and finish, it just might go slowly because I am sort of a slow worker, not on purpose, it's just that I can only write when my life allows me to.

Anyway, this used to be _I see stars in your eyes_ but I decided to revamp the whole thing. It just wasn't doing it for me so I'm picking it up and giving it a full on makeover that's loooong overdue! Most of it is going to change - names, personalities, character's backgrounds, etc. - so I apologize in advance of those who liked the fic the way it was.

I just think that it needs to start over, like me :D

I truly hope you enjoy it. Please review!

* * *

**Harry Potter: "My Dawn"**

Remus x OC

ooo

"_Nobody Can Go Back And Start a New Beginning, But Anyone Can Start Today _

_And Make a New Ending." _– Mary Robinson

ooo

**1.**

An antique cuckoo clock carved of the finest dark oak wood struck midnight, its carolling echoing through the silent manor as it fell into the shadows cast by the last few oil lamps still lit. The only sound was the whipping of the wind against the closed windows and the _tap tap_ of the rain on the roof. Occasionally there would be a subtle brushing of paws skimming from one empty room to another, it was so light it was barely noticeable.

The quiet was asphyxiating for the young woman who was still up in her room, on the second floor. It trapped her in its gelid chains, gripping her throat, clawing at her chest and broken heart. Her torment mirrored the stormy weather outside, the rain matching the tears threatening to spurt from her eyes. Not even the little bundle, warm in his peaceful sleep, cuddled in her arms soothed the unbearable pain.

She felt lonelier than she had ever felt. She was consumed by loneliness and heartache there, in that big house where there was no one else but her and her angel anymore. At least not until the only man she had left didn't make it back home safe from the trip he had stubbornly insisted on making despite the circumstances they were in.

The growling of a thunder startled her. The baby moved in her arms, making soft lovely noises she loved, though he remained fast asleep.

She rocked him a bit longer. Then she laid him on his old cradle, carefully making sure he stayed tightly comfortably tucked in. With a short wave of her hand, she switched on the music mobile hovering above him between the lacy curtains. The music, the purely Celtic sound it played brought her an even greater sadness, clouding her mind with bittersweet memories.

When her legs caved under her, she quickly lowered herself to the window seat and touched her forehead, assaulted by waves of dizziness. Maybe she should try to eat something… yet her stomach didn't seem to agree by the way it suddenly chugged and shrivelled into a tight knot.

She was washed over with relief as she saw the world straighten once more.

Another booming thunder shook her frail shoulders. She stared at the dark clouds, momentarily flashing white.

Wherever he was, she just hoped he would take shelter from that dreadful cold storm.

* * *

Remus woke up with the first signs of sunlight peaking timidly through the clouds of that previous riotous night. He stretched his arms over his head until all of his sore muscles crack, even though he didn't feel any better afterwards. Then he jumped out of bed, a piece of him whining from the abrupt absence of warmth, and hopped into the old rusty cabinet for a long but cold shower.

At first, when he realized the little money he earned for the few odd jobs Arthur would find him wasn't nearly enough for gas expenses, at least if he wanted to have food for the month, showering had been a bugger. Now, he barely flinched with the first gush and after about the third minute it was even refreshing.

His bones didn't seem to agree with him, though.

Stepping into the kitchen, after getting into a pair of khakis and shoving an old red knitted sweater over his head, it had hole on the right elbow but it was pleasantly warm, he went through the cabinets for some breakfast. He settled for a piece of cereal bread with a bit of jam and a nice sizzling cup of green tea.

He had just sat down and opened the Daily Mail on the crosswords section when his annoying bell rang. Remus sighed dejectedly, but he got up again and answered the door.

"Albus!"

The headmaster looked as if he had aged half a century as he leaned the weight of his body on an ivory cane, standing on his front porch. His grizzled frizzy hair was drenched, soaking through his grey robes. Remus shivered with the dark blue, once light and gentle, rimmed with blood that fell over him. He had dark circles under his eyes, they had to be from at least three or four days.

"I apologize for the early inconvenience, Remus. I hope I didn't take you out of bed," he said. His voice was horse, choked.

"Oh no, not at all! Come in, please. You're always more than welcome here." Remus stepped aside to allow him in. They moved into the kitchen where he gestured Albus towards a chair, he took it politely. "Can I offer you some tea? Perhaps a strong cup of coffee would be better…"

Albus quirked a thick eyebrow. "Do I look that bad?"

Remus became flustered. "Don't take me wrong but yes, you do look awful. What happened?"

"I believe I will take that cup of coffee after all, maybe a bit of brandy as well if you have any." Although he wasn't pleased with his request, being the early time it was, Remus complied. Albus ignored the coffee and took a large swig of the cheap brandy he owned. It had been a gift for a job, Remus wasn't much of a drinker to have bought it for himself on his own. Then he took back his place and Albus continued, "my son's home was attacked this Monday, the Death Eaters did it. My son didn't make it…"

The hands he had around the hot porcelain teacup quivered and Remus accidentally spilled a few drops. He stared at the older man for several moments, his usually sharp mind having trouble taking in that piece of information.

"How, uh…" He tried to grasp the words to say but it wasn't easy, he still didn't want to believe. "How did it happen… exactly?"

"They were after something valuable, something very precious."

Remus sucked in a breath. "Isobelle."

"Indeed. They came after Isobelle."

"Did they get her? Or is she-"

"My granddaughter is safe and sound thankfully. She's currently staying at my place at Godric's Hallow," Albus cut him off before he could fear the worst. "It was a miracle she didn't happen to be home when they attacked."

He nodded, clearly relieved.

"What about the attackers?"

"Two escaped. Moody caught the third, the one who killed Angus." The blue became even darker, his jaw twitching. Remus could almost see the air around him crack with his smouldering power and he knew, particularly because he shared some of his feelings, if the opportunity to make justice by his own hands presented itself Albus wouldn't hesitate in taking it. Albus looked murderous. "It was Lucius."

Remus tightened his fists. He should've seen that coming. From the time they went to Hogwarts Lucius had never bothered to hide his spite for Angus, even if Angus wasn't exactly fond him either. Their hatred for each other grew further after he joined the Marauders and went around playing pranks on Slytherins.

They never stopped despising each other.

"I hope they lock him in Azkaban for life," he spat through gritted teeth with a disguised rage.

"Unfortunately, it's highly unlikely. Lucius has built up quite the resourceful list of acquaintances during his political influence at the ministry, but mark my words, Remus, this will not end here. I will bring that murderer down even if I must stain my wand with blood." Remus shuddered with the icy coldness dripping from his voice. Albus shook his head to clear off the red clouds of blood thirst. "On another note… I was hoping you'd had enough thinking to consider the proposal I made you. Now it's probably not the appropriate time but I'm afraid I need an answer today. My staffing positions have to be all taken before this month ends."

"Oh, about that, Albus… I don't know… after what happened four years ago I have my doubts about being welcomed with opened arms at Hogwarts…"

"Nonsense. You were the best professor those students ever had, Harry insists on reminding everyone."

"Harry's opinion, although very flattering, is also partially biased when it comes to this."

"I'm obliged to disagree." Albus tone made Remus squirm uncomfortably in his chair. "Stop trying to find excuses not to be doing what you should be doing. It's as simple as this: would you rather go back to teaching, what you've always loved more than anything, or do you want to continue helping Arthur with odd jobs that barely get you through the month? The choice is yours alone, Remus."

Yet Remus knew, deep down, there was no choice to be made. Albus had hit the hail; Remus loved to teach, it was his vocation.

"Yes, okay. I will take the job."

* * *

She was finishing up lunch with the help of Libby, their family's lovely and most helpful house elf, when her grandfather walked into the kitchen.

She didn't like his weakened appearance, nor the unhealthy thinness of his face, even if she was likely to look fairly similar. He was still wearing the same clothes from the day he'd left, three days ago, maybe four, she wasn't quite so sure anymore; and they were dirty, covered with yellow stains. There was a faint smell of alcohol around him, it was deep-seated in his dishevelled hair, in his unruly beard.

All of the courage she had been building to face him slipped away. It took only an aching, lost glance from her grandfather and she couldn't even try to pretend to be strong and call him to reason.

"We weren't expecting you so soon," she said shortly, her accent barely noticeable, her back to him, as she kept her quivering hands occupied with the stove and the cooking pots.

He didn't answer right away. He took some time watching her move along the counter, keenly noticing she was thinner than her usual already slim figure and her legs were unsteady in their strides. Her hair was weaker too, her eyes swollen and red, her lips chapped from where she bit hard on them, a habit she had inherited from her father when troubled with stress.

"I shouldn't have left like that the other day. I'm so sorry, Izzie…" When she gave him nothing more than a shrug of her shoulders, Albus sighed. "How is everything in here?"

"Unchanged. Nate is still sleeping but I couldn't put him asleep until last night so I think he won't be waking up anytime soon."

Albus nodded. He came closer towards her, however, he stopped before he could touch her. He stayed right behind, uncertain of his actions for the first time in a very long time, wanting reach out yet also scared of doing so.

It was an odd sensation.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Did you get any sleep at all?"

"I could ask you the very same question, could I not?" Isobelle remarked. As a strained silence dragged on between them, she gave up and took a breath in. She really didn't feel like arguing. "I've slept very little, but something nonetheless. I've been keeping my head busy with the mansion. It's been a while since you've cleaned it up, hasn't it?"

"Yes, it has… quite a while actually."

"That's what I thought. Would you mind terribly if I changed it a bit?"

He shook his head. "This is your home now, you may do whatever pleases you most with it. Here-" He dropped a small golden key on the palm of her hand after she shifted to meet his face. It seemed old, the end was shaped into classic twists and knots. "It opens my sister's private garden, I believe it requires some of you care as well. I haven't stepped foot in it since your grandmother was alive. She usually took care of it, not me or Libby."

"I remember… she used to spend a whole day gardening and she the most beautiful beds of flowers and herbs… Merlin, she had so many herbs…"

"She did," he smiled fondly at the memory. After all those years and his heart would still jump when he pictured his wife, seeing her perfectly as she kneeled down on the grass, not worrying the least if she got her extremely expensive emerald green dress. She would have her hands in the dirt and her forehead would be sweaty from her hard work. She would have her hair up because she didn't want it getting in the way, stubborn strands slipping and sticking to her cheeks and her neck. "Edna was one of the brightest Healers I've had the pleasure of meeting and she devoted her whole heart to her profession. I know she would've wanted you to have the garden."

Isobelle closed her fingers around the key, holding it against her chest, pressing the place where her bruised heart was beating. "Thank you."

Her reaction moved him. With the carefulness of someone approaching a wild animal ready to scatter away at any moment, Albus gathered her delicate form in his arms and he held her to him. Isobelle instinctively shut her eyes, greedily soaking in every second of tenderness.

"Everything will be alright, dragonfly. We will be alright, I promise," he whispered against her hair.

She wasn't so sure but as she stood there, tucked into her safe heaven, Isobelle did her best to trust his words. Because she hoped. She hoped that if she pretended hard enough, then it would eventually come true.

* * *

"So you're going to be teaching again after all," George said as he leaned back into the chair and raised a large pint of butterbeer to his lips, taking long sip. He would usually be drinking a glass of wine or some whiskey, well maybe an actual pint, but his mother wasn't so keen on their sons drinking at home.

Remus was sitting on the opposite side of the table, in The Burrow's living room. He had been forced to accept the Weasley's invitation to stay for dinner after Molly insisted quite stubbornly. As much as he loved the woman to death, sometimes he would've liked if she wasn't so headstrong. Especially when she had decided he was too thin and taken upon herself to do something about it.

He was a grown man. The last thing he was missing was someone treating him like a little boy.

"Indeed it seems I will," he replied.

"What wonderful news, my dear!" Molly patted him on the shoulder, congratulating him wholeheartedly as she shoved a bowl of stew in front of him. "Letting you go was the biggest mistake that school could've made."

Remus thanked her for the food. "Well, it was my choice, Molly. No one told me to leave."

"Even so. Those students loved you."

Swallowing the first piece of meat was nearly brought tears to his eyes. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt the taste of lamb or of a gravy so divinely seasoned.

_Blessed was this woman!_

"That's an understatement. You were the best professor I had and this comes from someone who hated school," George added.

"If my memory doesn't fail, you and your brother had the brilliant idea of using some of my Slytherin students as targets during one my experimental classes, even though I had made it very clear you were supposed to use the rats I told you to."

"Ahh, I remember that…" George felt slightly nostalgic but his smirk was more devious than blue. "Pucey and Bletchely didn't come anywhere near us for the rest of the year. Peace, sweet peace…"

"That's no surprise, you boys turned them into stone and then flew them out of the window. It was the seventh floor, they never looked down a balcony again."

Molly clicked her tongue, annoyed with her sons. She rounded the table and slapped the back of his head.

"Mom!"

"You have no shame and you should! Going about behaving like savages… you and your brother… Honestly," she sighed, "you'll have looking like a raisin by the time I'm sixty."

George rubbed the sore spot where he was struck, pouting. "Those bloody buffoons were asking for it, they were always picking on our first years and only we are allowed to that privilege. And besides, Fred and I paid high for it."

Remus glanced at the older woman with a grin and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. The look stole ten years off of him, she noticed. It might take more than one or two glimpses to truly see it, but Remus was quite a handsome man.

"I got them cleaning one of my classrooms after a student accidentally blew up the slugs I was using. No magic allowed and they could only scrub with toothbrushes may I add."

Molly chuckled, picturing her devilish sons bent over the floor, scrubbing green slimy goo with nothing but small toothbrushes. Even George ended up cracking up a smile.

"Fine, I suppose you weren't exactly first on my list of people I love on that particular day, but you were still my favourite – by far. All Gryffindors felt that way."

"Hogwarts isn't exclusively made of Gryffindors, George."

"So? Who cares?" He gulped down the rest of the beet. "The Ravenclaws liked you enough, I mean you're clever and efficient. The Hufflepuffs, blessed be their kind hardworking hearts, have never been picky or judgemental for that matter, and the Slytherin can very well grab their stuck up noses and jump off a cliff for all I care. They would be doing the humanity a big favour."

Remus snorted. He would never confess to it but a part of him would always be a Marauder, and that little piece would always face the Slytherins as target to take down, or to make life a living hell at the very least. The professor in him, though, worked hard to stay unbiased.

Maybe that was the real reason why he went along so great with the twins, because he saw some of his old self reflected in them. He had been lucky to find in George especially a friend and a mate like he didn't have since… well he could hardly remember. If it weren't for him, Remus would've long fallen victim to his loneliness.

Ever since he lost Sirius he'd been getting more and more isolated, he avoided even the last surviving members of the Order. It wasn't entirely intentional, Remus was a social man who appreciated a good conversation as much as anyone else. The problem laid deeper, internally. Serious had just left too big of a whole on his heart, there was an empty space, a gap really, in his soul, joining the others.

He felt like, little by little, he was watching all those he loved and were dear to him slip away for their cause. First, his parents, then James and Lily, Sirius two years ago and now Angus… his best friend. Remus was the last of the Marauders, the only survivor. And only because, if it was up to him, Peter was dead from the day he sold them out, and there would come a time when he would take it upon himself to make it right and carry on the rat's sentence with his own wand.

* * *

Isobelle gave one last tight hug to Nate, squeezing him more for her pleasure than for his. "Is this really okay? I mean, I wouldn't want to trouble you by imposing…" She asked for the tenth time since she'd gotten there.

"For Merlin's sake, I've told you; it's no trouble. Will you stop being silly, dear?" Minerva rolled her eyes. She had grown accustomed to the young woman's stubborn reluctance by now, but it was exasperating how hard she seemed to accept help, as if depending on someone other than herself was the last and the least preferable option. "You just go and take all the time you need, there's no reason for rush. Enjoy this little break, you deserve it."

"It's hardly a break, aunt Minerva…"

"Well, it's an escape from that house and that's good enough for me. Aren't you tired of being cooped up?"

Isobelle smiled faintly, shrugging. "It's a work in progress, and it keeps me busy, which is something I rather like," she answered truthfully. She stood up from where she was kneeling and took a small step away from the little boy who clung to her hand with a vice-like grip, following her. She shook her head. "I'll only be gone for a couple hours, aye love?

Nate nodded gingerly but he didn't look too pleased. His desolated eyes were a shot through her heart that she struggled internally to ignore and turn her back to. After one last brief farewell, Isobelle headed down the street where McGonagall lived, in her little house, and searched for a dark alley where she could Apparate safely.

Within minutes, she found herself just outside the Leaky Cauldron. She went in, throwing a quick greeting at the hunched man behind the counter who knew her well enough by now, and made her way to the back of the nearly empty inn. She pulled out her wand and tapped the brick wall, it opening obediently.

Isobelle loved Diagon Alley when she was a child. Even after growing up, she would still awe at its entire colourful beauty, at the charming busy and overcrowded streets. It was more than that, though. There was something extremely comforting in all of the garish disarray it was always bustling with, an oddly lovely fluttery feeling it brought to her stomach and warmed her up. However that same carnivalesque place was gone and it nearly sent her to the verge of tears.

With the rising of Voldemort, the terrifying menace of the Death Eaters, Diagon Alley had been reduced to a dark, gloomy cluster of cold-looking buildings and decrepit shops, most of them closed up when it was the busiest time of the year. Now, she couldn't even tell the difference between the scariest sides of Diagon Alley and the most wonderful. Everyone was scared to walk around and those who were brave enough, like her, tried to be as short as possible.

It was heart wrenching to walk on by the _Gambol & Japes_ and see the empty windows, and the doors shut. Her father used to bring her there every time they would visit London, he said it reminded him of all the good moments he had spent with his friends when they were in school. And passing through the _Quality Quidditch Supplies_, once packed to the seams with boys and girls wanting to buy their very first broom or the newest model, reminded her of Harry. He would never miss a chance to drag her in, whether she liked it or not.

She missed him so much, she noted with a sigh as she stepped into _Flourish & Blotts_.

The wide, yet crammed with shelves stacked to the ceiling, bookshop was cooler than the muggy weather outside. It came as relief because even though she had stripped off the thin sweater she was wearing over her navy blue peasant dress, Isobelle was still feeling slightly feverish. She touched the back of her neck, tugging her thick hair over one shoulder to enjoy the light breeze on her skin, walking along the textbooks sections.

She didn't know any of the books. Well, she recognized some titles, not many, and most writers but she had never dwelled over their work on school books. In Durmstrang they were asked only to use books of the dark arts or borrow the ancient scrolls exclusive to the institute's privileged library. Isobelle would carry around with her encyclopaedias with two thousand pages of which the only purpose was to guide her on only one subject.

Isobelle was struggling with piling four thick textbooks when she realized the next on the list was two rows higher. She stood on the tip of her toes, wobbling quite a bit in her platform sandals, and tried reaching for it. Her fingers had just touched the edge of the shelf when she suddenly lost balance and stumbled back, her books ending up toppling to the floor.

"Bugger!" She cursed under her breath, crouching down to pick them up. She hoped none of them had gotten damaged because now she certainly couldn't switch those for new ones. A shadow fell over her and she felt its owner lower himself to her level, offering her the last book. "Thank you…"

"You're quite welcome."

He had a deep voice, gruff yet light-hearted. Isobelle liked the sound, it seemed to tickle the bottom of her belly. She rose to her feet and faced up to meet him.

Her polite helper was not only very tall, but also older, she would say at least going on forty, maybe less… or more? She wasn't entire certain. He was thin, a little more than could be considered healthy, not bony though as the toffee brown jacket of his suit fitted him in the shoulders rather nicely. His was face was marred by scars, one of which nearly caught his eye. However, the scars didn't steal any of his charm, in fact they added to it, they made him more attractive, especially when he was lit up by a devilish smile.

Isobelle felt oddly enchanted with his moustache, light brown, like honey, like his tousled hair already showing signs of grey.

"Spellman's Syllabary", an excellent choice. It can be quite the useful guide for advanced exercises," he remarked observantly, giving her an even wider delightful smile. "Ancient Runes is an absolutely fascinating subject."

Isobelle shook her head, trying to keep it discreet. Then she returned the smile. "I have to agree," she said.

"Remus Lupin, pleasured to meet you." He offered his hand but upon noticing her struggling with the amount of heavy books still in her arms, he promptly took half of the load. Much to her relief.

"Oh, thank you. I had no idea Hogwarts required so many textbooks… I'm Isobelle. Isobelle Dumbledore."

Remus blinked twice, clearly having been caught by surprise, his mouth opening in a silent _oh_. She was already used to such reactions. When you shared the same surname as the greatest wizard of all times it was easy to make a few jaws drop.

Remus cleared his throat. "I see… then I suppose this will be your first year as a Hogwarts student, isn't that so?"

"First year as a seventh year, yes. I have to say though, it's all very different from Durmstrang. It's terribly overwhelming."

"It's no surprise, Durmstrang and Hogwarts could easily be considered as polar opposites," he pointed out. "I do hope I can rise to your expectations as your last a teacher, Miss Dumbledore."

"Oh?" Isobelle regarded him quietly for a moment and just as he was about to elaborate further, she suddenly remembered the reason why his name had sounded so familiar. "Oh! You were Harry's professor three years ago, weren't you?" Remus nodded with a smile. "How silly of me to have forgotten. Harry and Ron loved you as a professor."

Remus' whimsical green eyes twinkled brighter, like a beacon. She felt that fluttery sensation again, the flapping of butterflies inside her belly, partially because the more she looked at him, the more she found him truly handsome.

"I'm thrilled to hear it but I'm obliged to confess," he started, winking playfully, "you're not the first to tell me."

Isobelle chuckled good-naturedly and, this time, it was heartfelt.

The sound was strange in her mouth, in her hears too, as if it didn't belong to her or she couldn't recognize it anymore. How long had it been since she had last laughed? Merlin, it felt like a lifetime.

"My grandpa seems to be very fond of you as well, Professor."

"Albus is, with much delight, a dear friend of mine. I can be quite… _difficult_ and he has always been persistent with me."

"Ah yes, he mentioned you were stubborn," she joked.

Remus seemed to become sheepish. It was positively adorable.

"I believe I'll take that as a compliment." He grinned when she chuckled again. He shifted the books from one arm to another while he glanced around at the several shelves. "Would you care for some help with the rest? I would very much enjoy accompanying you."

Isobelle hesitated first. Then she nodded, putting a curl behind her ear gingerly. The way he followed the action heated her up, and her face felt like it was caught on fire.

"That would be lovely, thank you."

* * *

For the remaining of the afternoon, Remus escorted Isobelle, offering his help not just with books but also with other trinkets she was required for school.

He could hardly believe he had crossed paths with Isobelle, the youngest of the Dumbledore family, the only daughter of two of his best friends. By mere chance, which was even more astounding. The last time Remus had actually seen her was when she was a baby, a precious treasure so little and so fragile that he feared squishing her too tightly while holding her.

All those years and he had never considered… She was so different, grown up – a young woman. She was beautiful, absolutely dazzling, even though she looked very little with her mother or her father. In fact, Remus would say she was the spitting image of Albus. In a very feminine, very harmoniously manner of course. She was perfectly made.

He watched her glide the tip of her fingers over several glass bottles of powders and herbs as they wondered through the Apothecary. The faint candle light touched her flawless skin, bestowing it with a golden glow, enhancing the rosiness of her cheeks. Remus felt compelled to follow with his eyes every delicate contour of her bare shoulders. He found them extremely attractive.

The wolf in him gave a primitive growl. Remus frowned.

After leaving the Apothecary, where she bought a new potion kit and a couple more extra vials, they made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron. Isobelle sighed as they walked by Florean Fortescue's Ice Parlour, once an eruption of laughter, flourish and joy, now nothing but a dark, empty, closed shop.

"It's really a pity," he said, matching her sigh.

Isobelle looked so devastated that he felt himself be infected and become sad as well. "This may be the first time I come to Diagon Alley and leave without one of Florean's sundaes… To tell you the truth, I have quite the sweet tooth."

Remus chuckled. _Where have I heard that before?_

"So have I." He brought a hand his pocket and pulled out a small bar of chocolate. He usually kept a stash in that jacket for emergencies; and he offered it to Isobelle. The big smile she gave him in return warmed up his very core. "I know it's not the same as a sundae…"

"It's perfect, Professor Lupin."

They finally stopped in front of the Leaky Cauldron. They stood in front of each other awkwardly.

"Can you carry all of this stuff by yourself? Don't you need any help?"

Isobelle shrugged and, with a simple absentminded flick of her hand, she charmed the bags and wrappers to float behind her. "You've done more than enough, I can take it from here, see?"

"Well then, I hope you have great evening. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Dumbledore."

"It was a pleasure meeting you too, Professor, and I'm thankful for your help. Uh…" She stared him nervously, pinning him down with her piercing blue eyes, dark as the night. "I'll see you soon…?"

Her anxious and uncertain question delighted him. "I certainly hope so," he answered and, acting on an impulse, he moved to push one of her stubborn curls behind her ear, the way he had seen her do earlier. "I would very much like to see you again."

Isobelle blushed delicately. She waved him as she walked off, the bags trailing after her in the air. Remus stayed still for a moment, watching her go, knowing well that his mind would give him no piece and the dazzling and lovely young witch would plague him for the rest of the day.

* * *

So, how did you find it?

Love, Moon Princess


End file.
